


it hurts to become

by fieryspacerock



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Study, Discord: Tenzou's Cabin, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Tenzo - Freeform, expect a training montage soon, kakashi/tenzou happens later, no beta - we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryspacerock/pseuds/fieryspacerock
Summary: “I’m working on a replacement arm for Naruto utilizing my grandfather’s cells.” Tsunade takes another sip of the tea, and continues, “I started diving into my family’s medical history, as well as records of Orochimaru’s experiments that we obtained as part of his pardon.”Tenzou feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he clutches the tea cup a little tighter. “My records,” Tenzou says, and his heart skips a beat.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	it hurts to become

_Tenzou looks out at the rubble of his village--his home._

_“We’re still here.”_

_The words are said with such conviction--such defiance, in the face of Konoha’s utter destruction. He’s filled with hope, a burning fire that sweeps through his body, because he can fix this. Tenzou channels that feeling, molds the invisible force in his hands as he runs through his hand signs. He sinks his hands into the mud under his feet, and pushes everything into the ground in a massive surge of chakra._

_All around them trees spring up, and the harder he pushes his chakra the more he’s able to channel it into specific shapes. Mismatched houses from different architectural eras of Konoha form in winding rows. His eyes are closed now, as he reconstructs everything he can from memory. Tenzou keeps his breathing slow and even, ignores the scent of blood around him, ignores the gasps as he unleashes his power in front of the whole village for the first time._

_It will be impossible to keep the mokuton, or it’s sole user, quiet anymore. Tenzou knows this display is like signing his own bounty. But he also knows with unshakeable certainty, that using his jutsu to rebuild the village is the right thing to do. Tenzou pours everything he has into the steady stream of chakra--his hope, his determination, and his defiance._

_For the first time he understands the Will of Fire, and thinks that maybe he’s finally carrying that torch._  
\---  
The world slowly comes into focus as Tenzou claws his way out of the dream and back to the present. As far as dreams go, it’s one of the more pleasant recurring ones that he’s had over the past few months. His fuzzy head is left wondering where the man in his dream went. _What happened to that conviction? That fire?_

As the fog in his mind clears, Tenzou is immediately aware of two things. One: he’s fallen asleep on the couch, and his body is complaining in every way possible. Two: there’s an insistent pounding on his door.

“Tenzou, I’ll break down this damn door myself if you don’t open it up,” comes the muffled voice of Tsunade. His stomach gives a dangerous jolt and his mind immediately goes down a dark rabbit hole, _Why is Tsunade-sama here? What would bring her to visit me personally? Where’s Kaka--_

His train of thought is cut off as the pounding on the door increases, and he hears the hinges creak at the abuse. Tenzou is on his feet in an instant, and he quickly moves to open the door.

The way Tsunade freezes with her fist in the air would be almost comical, if Tenzou’s stomach wasn’t filled with dread. Tsunade takes in the expression on his face, and sighs. 

“This is a personal visit. Kakashi is fine,” she pauses, considering his appearance, “You, on the other hand, look like shit.” 

She cheerfully pushes past him into his home, and Tenzou finds himself rooted to the spot by the door. He wasn’t expecting visitors. He doesn’t want visitors. But he closes the door anyway, and meekly makes a beeline towards the kitchen to put a tea kettle on. 

Tenzou peeks around the corner to see that Tsunade has completely made herself comfortable at his kitchen table. She has placed several books in front of her, a small stack of file folders, along with some even older scrolls. _What is this about?_

Tenzou picks out a few mismatched cups from the cupboard, and brings everything on a tray out to the dining table. He pours tea for both of them, then settles down at the opposite end of the table. The scent of Jasmine is calming, and Tenzou finds himself cradling the cup in both of his hands.

“Tsunade-sama. To what do I owe this...unexpected pleasure?” Tenzou says politely, choosing his words carefully. He keeps his expression neutral, but apparently it isn’t enough to hide his displeasure at the unannounced visit because Tsunade laughs.

“I understand that you wish to be left alone until you recover,” Tsunade sips at her tea, and leans in across the table, “but this is more important.”

Tenzou nods, and her tone makes him sit up a little straighter in his seat. Tsunade is no longer the Hokage, but everything about her presence still commands attention.

“I’m working on a replacement arm for Naruto utilizing my grandfather’s cells.” She takes another sip of the tea, and continues, “I started diving into my family’s medical history, as well as records of Orochimaru’s experiments that we obtained as part of his pardon.”

Tenzou feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he clutches the tea cup a little tighter. “My records,” Tenzou says, and his heart skips a beat. He’s only dimly aware of the pardon that Orochimaru managed to secure, having been unconscious while the trial happened. He hasn’t had the energy to dig into the specifics of the pardon since he was discharged from the hospital.

Tsunade has his full attention now. “Yes. Among others. They were...enlightening, and provided another piece to the puzzle.” Tsunade starts flipping through folders then, selects one midway through the stack, and tosses it across the table towards him.

 _Test Subject 54,_ the tab on the folder reads.

 _Me,_ he thinks, and lets out a shaky breath. It’s a simple thing to just reach out and grab it, but he is unable to will himself to move.

“I wanted to know why your body was the only one out of sixty children to accept my grandfather’s cells,” Tsunade adds.

“I’ve wanted the answer to that question my entire life,” Tenzou says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tsunade gives him a soft, sad smile then, but he doesn’t detect any pity in her expression. If anything, she looks regretful. “I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to pull my head out of my ass and take a proper look at your situation.”

Tenzou gives a wave of his hand; he doesn’t want apologies, he wants answers.

Tsunade carefully opens up the largest book in front of her, and Tenzou is surprised to see it’s a photo album. The first few pages contain sketches, and he glimpses a few grainy photos after that. Tsunade finally stops on a page, and flips the book around for Tenzou to see.

It’s a family photo, with Senju Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito. There are two teenagers seated in front of them, and a smaller baby in Mito’s arms. As he studies the children’s faces, he realizes that one of them must be Tsunade’s father. He can just barely make out the whisker marks on each child’s cheeks.

“Arakashi, Sotetsu, and Kuromatsu,” Tsunade points at each child and she lists their names. “All boys. Arakashi was my father,” she says as she taps a manicured nail on what appears to be the eldest boy. His facial features resemble Mito’s; the high, angular cheekbones, and almond shaped eyes. 

Tenzou’s eyes flick up to Tsunade uncertainly. He’s not sure why he’s getting a personal history lesson from the former Hokage at 6pm on a Saturday, but he trusts that it’s going somewhere relevant. So he nods, and she flips forward a few more pages. The next photo she points to is another family one, but the family has clearly grown. Arakashi is with what Tenzou presumes is his wife, and a tiny Tsunade is being balanced on Hashirama’s knee. Sotetsu is also with his wife, who looks like she’s heavily pregnant. 

Who he assumes is Kuromatsu is standing a little awkwardly off to the side, alone. His face is angled, looking off camera and the photographer has only managed to catch his profile. The photo definitely has a more chaotic quality to it, and just from looking at it he can tell that the youngest brother doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the family. There was a considerable age gap between him and his brothers, and Tenzou wonders if that was the source of the awkwardness. He doesn’t understand much about family or clan politics, having never had either himself.

“I don’t remember Kuro very well. He died in action a few years after this photo was taken, when I was still very young.” Tsunade flips one page, where there’s individual portraits of each family member. Tenzou looks each of them over with a quick glance, until he gets to Kuromatsu.

The wide mouth is familiar, coupled with the large, dark eyes, and strong jaw. His hair is short and unruly, like Tenzou’s. Tenzou feels his breath catch in his chest, and he looks up at Tsunade, clearly in shock.

Tsunade leans back in her chair, barely hiding a smug grin behind her cup of tea. “You’re a smart man, Tenzou. I’m not going to draw this out. I believe Kuro was your father.”

Tenzou flips through the photobook, desperate for any more photos of the man. There’s a few where he’s in the background, and then abruptly he stops appearing in any photos at all. “How?” Tenzou asks, unable to formulate a full question.

“Kuro died in the beginning of the Third War while out on an intelligence mission for ANBU. At least, that’s what was reported. His body wasn’t recovered.” Tsunade sets her cup on the table, and pulls out a certificate of death from one of the folders. “His mission took place in a smaller village outside of Konoha, near the village where Orochimaru later found you in an orphanage.”

The silence is broken by the harsh scrape of Tenzou’s chair as he scoots it backwards, and retreats into the kitchen. He comes back a few moments later with a bottle of sake and two floral-patterned saucers. Tenzou pours enough alcohol for each of them, and knocks his first saucer back in one go. He immediately pours himself a second, and returns back to his chair.

Tsunade is watching all of this with amusement, though she’s not one to turn down free alcohol. She lifts her saucer in a mock toast to Tenzou, and slowly drinks it down.

“From what I’ve been able to personally gather, your parents met and your father faked his death not long after. He didn’t believe in the war.” She slowly pours herself another drink, steeling herself for the end of the story. Tenzou knows it doesn’t have a happy ending. _How can it, if he wound up in Orochimaru’s care?_

“They had you not long after. Two years down the road, Iwagakure descended on the village and killed nearly everyone. A few people were able to smuggle some of the children out.”

“I was in that group,” Tenzou says, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t remember any of his past life before Orochimaru put him in that stasis pod. After all, he had only been a baby.

Still, he feels a deep ache, a longing, and wishes he could remember _anything_ \--his mother’s voice, his father’s smile...but nothing comes. His mind is blank. Empty. He lets out a disappointed sigh, and opens his eyes.  
Tsunade is carefully considering his reaction to the news from across the table, and he feels like he’s being analyzed. Everyone who knew the truth behind his disappearance and his role in the war looks at him like that now. Like they’re re-evaluating where he, and his newfound abilities, fit in the hierarchy of power in the shinobi world.

 _Like they’re waiting for him to unleash that power on everyone again._

Being a prisoner of war pushed the limits of his mokuton, and he was able to pull off jutsu that he never thought possible. Tenzou now knows that his abilities aren’t inferior to Hashirama’s, they’re just...different. 

After all, kekkai-genkai rarely manifest in the exact same way among clan members. 

“I think,” Tsunade begins slowly, breaking the heavy silence, “that Orochimaru’s experiments only unlocked what you already have inside you. He didn’t give you the mokuton. Exposure to Hashirama’s cells prematurely activated the mokuton. The mokuton, and everything that comes with it, is yours.”

Tenzou knows this is the only logical conclusion, but the revelation still makes his stomach squirm uncomfortably. The mokuton is _his._ Not the product of some experiment. Not Hashirama’s. _It’s his._

If it’s truly his, it means he can finally step out from Hashirama’s shadow. He’s tried with varying degrees of success over the years to bend his mokuton to Hashirama’s techniques, never once considering that maybe he needed to walk his own path. 

He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, forcing his body to relax. “I saw the remnants of Shodaime’s mokuton on the battlefield in the aftermath of the war,” Tenzou admits. “It looked nothing like mine. I always assumed I didn’t have the skill to replicate his techniques properly, but I think maybe mine is just…”

“Different,” Tsunade offers, with a small smile. “We saw that you have the ability to replicate some of his most powerful techniques when pushed to your limit. But I think you could come up with something that’s entirely unique to you, potentially even more powerful, if you’re willing to try.”

Deep down, he knows that this is a thinly veiled ploy. Tsunade is trying to give him something to focus on. A purpose. 

_A reason to get better._

Despite that, Tenzou can’t deny that he’s genuinely excited to try. Even entertaining the notion that he could be more powerful than Hashirama is dizzying, so Tenzou decides to focus on simply becoming more powerful than he was before the war.

“Thank you, Tsunade-sama,” Tenzou finally says, with a small bow of his head. His voice is rough to his own ears, and he feels uncomfortable with the level of vulnerability Tsunade has brought out of him.

Tsunade lets out a sharp laugh, and says, “Tsunade is fine. After all, we’re cousins. Which reminds me…” she trails off, and starts rummaging in her bag. Tenzou frowns, and how much more information she can possibly drop on him in the same evening.

Tsunade pulls two objects out of the bag, and places them on his case file in the center of the table. One is a simple, green arm band. It’s not uncommon for clan members to wear one with their clan symbol on it. The other is a back patch, and Tenzou knows it’s meant to go on the back of his green flak vest.

Both bear the Senju clan symbol.

“The clan has nearly died out. We’re all that’s left of Hashirama’s direct line,” Tsunade explains with a grim expression. She pushes the folder with the clan items on top of it towards Tenzou, and adds, “I’d like you to think of me as family, eventually. I know it’s a big adjustment.”

All he can do is nod, as Tsunade scoots her chair back and stands. She crosses her arms over her chest, and says, “I have some investigations concerning Hashirama’s cells that I want you to take point on. You have two weeks to get yourself in fighting shape.” 

Tenzou’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise--two weeks? It’s not a lot of time, but he’s done worse things to his body in the name of the village. Tsunade holds up her hand to ward off any protests, and says with a wry smile, “I know it’s not fair. But the life of a shinobi rarely is. You’re the only person I trust to handle this mission.”

She pats the giant stack of documents that she came in with, and adds, “I’m leaving all this with you. All the research, family history...I want you to study up. You should know where you come from before you wear the clan symbol.”

Tenzou stands and gives her a formal bow as she heads for the door. “I’ll earn the right to wear it. Shodaime may be gone, but I’m still here.”

The words are familiar on his tongue, and he can’t hold back a small smile that breaks through his serious expression. 

Tsunade pauses at the door, and casts a glance back over her shoulder. To his surprise, she’s smiling too. “I know. I look forward to it. By the way, I told Hatake to stop by later and check on you. I’m sick of seeing him mope around the office.”

It’s just a tiny spark burning in Tenzou’s chest, but for the first time in months he finally feels warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick character study of sorts re:Tenzou, because he deserves better than what Kishimoto did with his character.
> 
> I FIRMLY believe that Tenzou had to have some sort of Senju blood. I think it's a combination of that and him having the correct chakra natures that let him use the mokuton. This fic was spurred on by the most recent episodes of Boruto.
> 
> Title is from Andrea Gibson's poem, 'I sing the body electric, especially when my power's out'.


End file.
